bluprovocateur:

redphysician liked your post: :| /arm punch; removal of cigarette; casual trip back to office/

curtaincomedy:

redscorcher:

curtaincomedy:

#Charlie you can leave #the grownups are talking

#Charles stop being such a downer I’m trying to talk to amy 

#don’t make me bring Bernie back #because I will

#will you amy? #WILL YOU? #callin yo bluff amy

Attention: Dr. Bernhard Schumacher
From: Reliable Excavation & Demolition
CC: TFI
Subj: Your Transfer Request

Dr. Schumacher,

This is an official notice that your request for base reassignment has been granted. You are reassigned to Yukon Base under the employment of RED, effective immediately.

Your transport to Yukon Base will arrive on July 15th at 10am. Please have all of your items crated and ready for transport. Failure to report on time for your transport will result in disciplinary censure.

Have a nice day,
Administration, RED

_______________________

The Medic had just finished packing up the contents of his office when he noticed an overlooked letter marked from RED. Assuming this was simply the notice confirming his transfer to 5Gorge, he opened it hastily and scanned over the message. His eyes stopped on the word “Yukon.” His Heavy had been transferred there last month, and Bernie sent a request to join him. Digging through his personal bag, he pulled out the last letter he received from Luka just to make sure. Grinning from ear to ear, he had to be careful not to wrinkle the letter in his excited grip. 

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astroengie:

redphysician:

Bernie’s eyes widened immediately at the mention of his Heavy. It had been so long since he’d seen Luka, and Ben was at Turbine with him; how did he not know this? A million other questions buzzed through his head. All he could manage to say was: “You know Luka.”

“I do, sir.” The Engineer grinned and nodded. Luka had been a good friend, and he’d talked about his amazing Medic often, but with the way things moved at Sawmill, Ben just only got around to seeing Bernie. ”When Luka found out I was comin’ here, he gave me this t’ bring t’ ya. I guess it got stuck in th’ wrong box when I transferred ‘cause I only just found it again t’day. I don’t know what’s in it, but… He said you’d understand.”

Walking over to Bernie, Ben held out the thick, heavy envelope, offering it to the Medic.

Eyeing the envelope, Bernie quickly opened it and removed its contents, several pages bound together like a booklet. His heart stopped for a moment when he read the title page: “Violin Concerto No. 5 in A Major by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.” The Medic recalled telling Luka about the time he listened to the piece performed live before joining RED, and how he completely fell in love with it. He had tried to find the sheet music that he might learn to play the song himself, but hit a dead end everywhere he looked. Being stuck at the base made finding the music even more difficult, and Bernie had pretty much given up by that point. 

Never had he thought that Luka might look for it himself, much less find it. With an incredulous laugh, he thumbed through the sheet music, grinning like a child on Christmas morning. After a quick glance over at his violin, wondering how soon he could start practicing, he turned his attention back to the Engineer. “Zhank you. You— Zhis— …zhank you.”

astroengie:

redphysician:

“Of course…” Bernie raised an eyebrow, wondering what Ben might have for him. Maybe something to add to the medical records? “And vhat might zhat be?”

“Well, ya may know this already, but…” Ben moved forward and pulled a large manila envelope out from under his arm. “Th’ last base I was stationed at was Turbine. And uh… I got t’ be pretty damn good friends with th’ Heavy there, somebody whose name you oughta recognize. Th’ name Luka sound familiar?”

Bernie’s eyes widened immediately at the mention of his Heavy. It had been so long since he’d seen Luka, and Ben was at Turbine with him; how did he not know this? A million other questions buzzed through his head. All he could manage to say was: “You know Luka.”

Letting himself into Bernie’s office, Ben shuts the door behind him and grins big, albeit a little sheepishly. “Hey, there! Ya got a minute? I got somethin’ for ya.”

“Of course…” Bernie raised an eyebrow, wondering what Ben might have for him. Maybe something to add to the medical records? “And what might zhat be?”

pipsqueakpyro:

Pips was well aware there were signs that this should have happened sooner, but for the past several weeks had been avoiding them. There were the orders, most obviously; the Pyro was supposed to have gotten a checkup several weeks ago to determine the success of Pips’s last surgery that immediately preceded the transfer to Sawmill, but the Pyro’s iatrophobia had since egregiously put this task off. The next was the mercenary’s slowly dwindling medication supply; taking the medication in the morning had since become an automatic process, but as of the last week the pronounced rattle that the bottles produced while handled had started to become concerning.

Finally, however, was the twinge in the Pyro’s wrist that, upon the clumsy dropping of the homewrecker during the morning’s practice, couldn’t be ignored. Normally Pips could write off small injuries as ones that could be easily handled without a Medic, but with the sound of the nearly-empty rattle of the pill bottles still in the Pyro’s memory, the combination of the signs finally led to a session of hyperventilating in the corner of laundry room, followed by a slow, terrified trudge to the base’s medical offices.

Pips had to confirm several times that this was the less-terrifying Medic’s office, whatever his name was. All Pips ever happened to notice was which Medic normally came out of which office, and as such was fairly confident that the current door the Pyro was standing in front of was the office that didn’t belong to Dr. Nightmare, or whatever that guy’s name was. There was almost a little sliver of self-congratulations in the Pyro’s mind—coming all the way to knock on a Medic’s office door on the Pyro’s own accord. Alone, too, though that decision was more fueled by the uncomfortable feeling that anyone the Pyro asked to come along would do so for other reasons than simple moral support. But—shit, there was a Medic in there. As far as Pips knew, anyways; the door was open slightly, but Pips couldn’t find the courage to peek inside just yet.

Pips had raised a hand to knock several times, but after what felt like half an hour still found that the Pyro was instead shaking uselessly outside of the office. The Pyro finally took a deep breath, however, and with eyes squeezed shut lightly rapped on the door, flinching as the action further pushed it open a little bit. The Pyro found it too awkward to accompany the knock with a greeting from not actually knowing the Medic’s name, and instead waited at the door, a moderate tremble already rooting in the Pyro’s frame and making standing upright rather difficult.

This was going to be fun.

Bernie had completed all the work he could do until the supply truck came the next day with time to spare, which meant he finally had time to catch up on his latest medical journals. Reading about the latest breakthroughs and findings often made him wonder how much more researchers could do with the technology he had at his disposal. The Medic didn’t get much of a chance to muse on this, as a light knocking and the sight of his door opening slightly caught his attention. He almost immediately recognized the Pyro as the one he’d ubered last Wednesday, since the other Pyros typically took off their masks after battles and were significantly taller. Closing his journal, he leaned forward with a kind smile, motioning the Pyro in.

“Ah, zhe brave little Pyro, come in. I don’t suppose I ever commended you for your performance last battle. You did a great job, and ve should probably team up again in zhe future.” There was no point in lying to himself; Bernie missed having someone to pocket. Even though they had lost, he felt it was his best battle in a while. And RED’s chance at winning had to be greater when there was someone for him to uber. Eventually, it occurred to the Medic that his visitor probably didn’t come to hear him ramble about battle plans. Clearing his throat, he smiled again. “But anyvay, I’m sure you’re here for anozher reason. How can I help you?”

pipsqueakpyro:

The Pyro wasn’t quite sure what had caused this battle’s latest death, but with a familiar, face-slapping jolt, Pipsqueak was already darting out of spawn in search of Fisticuffs Round Ten. Or eleven. …Maybe twelve? The point was, this one was feeling lucky. Rounding the corner of the outer perimeter of the shed, the Pyro kept a tight grip on the backburner, watching and listening as intently as someone wearing a gas mask could for possible fights or, at best, ambushes.

Pips spotted Bernie approaching the Pyro, but had written it off as just a coincidental passing-by. That is, until the mercenary jumped and snapped attention to the Medic at the terrifyingly familiar feeling of a medigun beam that wasn’t about to go away anytime soon. Struggling not to show that the Pyro was thoroughly startled, Pips nodded briskly, forcing a step towards the Medic, before comprehending what he had just said. Oh god, this is an impending ubercharge, isn’t it? Pips couldn’t quite remember the last time it happened to the mercenary, but didn’t remember it being all too fun. But—Bernie’s commands sounded urgent, and with a cringe, the Pyro kept vigilant for anyone trying to interrupt the Medic’s plan, all the while trying to get a read from Bernie on how soon the Pyro should be bracing for the charge.

Don’t pass out Pips don’t pass out don’t pass out…

Bernie’s eyes darted all around the central shed as he and Pips carefully made their way towards the door. In order to make the most of the brief invincibility, they had to get as close as possible to the sentry while staying out of its line of fire. Too many times had an enemy had surprised him right before activating his ubercharge; this time he stayed completely alert.

Noticing the Pyro’s hesitance, the Medic gestured to the doorway around corner. The beeps and hums of the sentry could faintly be heard over the whirring saws; he hoped Pips would know what to do once they moved to attack. After only a few moments, Bernie heard the familiar crackling sound from his medigun and saw the sparks at the edge of the beam that indicated the ubercharge was ready. With a nod to Pips, he yelled out: “Now! Go!” and flipped the switch. 

(Source: redphysician)